Hermione Granger and Men of Hogwarts
by fred the gnome
Summary: Hermione really wants a boyfriend, so she makes a list. Follow her through her humiliating adolescent journey toward true love...maybe. No specific pairings yet.
1. The List

It was the beginning of another year at Hogwarts.

Hermione Granger was experiencing two emotions as she sat on the Hogwarts Express, staring blankly out the window at the passing scenery.

First and foremost was, naturally, intense excitement. Her second year at Hogwarts was about to commence, and Hermione couldn't wait to retreat to the dusty rows of the library, where she could hibernate longer than a deer in Iceland, where the literacy rate is one hundred percent, which brought her back to thinking about the library, proving that she is, somewhat, a complete tool, although we obviously love her (even though we hate Emma Watson).

Second and strange was a nagging feeling of discontent. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing from her life, but try as she might she could not figure out what it was. Thinking about it for the past hour hadn't helped, especially with Parvati and Lavender and their loud speculation on things which adolescent girls think they know everything about. She wished Ron and Harry were with her, but peculiarly she had not seen them get on the train.

She was glad when it came time to put on her school robes.

The strange feeling was with her still when she sat down in the Great Hall. Having been Sorted last year, Hermione didn't need to pay attention to this year's. Instead, she looked discreetly round at her various classmates and peers. It was at this moment that Hermione began to notice some things.

She noticed Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory holding hands.

She noticed Padma Patil with her arm around a skinny Ravenclaw boy who was returning the favor.

She noticed Percy Weasley exchanging lewd looks (or at least, Percy's faintly amusing version of them) with a tall girl, a prefect named Penelope Clearwater.

Looking around, the relationships of numerous students began to make themselves all too obvious to her.

Hermione noticed all this, and she realized what was missing.

Hermione Granger—second-year extraordinaire, twelve-year-old genius, and renowned goody-two-shoes—_wanted a boyfriend_.

A lot.

That thought haunted Hermione ceaselessly over the next few days. Everywhere she looked, romance seemed to be blossoming in the shape of a couple holding hands, snogging, or stroking each other lovingly (at which point Fred and George would creep up behind the lovebirds and whisper things like, "Did you Petrificus Totalus me? 'Cause I'm getting stiff," things which Hermione didn't necessarily understand, but at which she laughed nonetheless because everyone else seemed to find them so uproariously funny). Hogwarts students, at their all-time lows of hormone control and all-time highs of hormone production, could make pornography look like a PBS Christmas special, but Hermione could not help but feel a tiny splinter of jealousy every time she saw this happening.

This problem needed to be solved, and fast. Fortunately, Hermione had a plan. And it didn't involve magic. Just a little bit of feminine charm.

GRYFFINDOR BOYS (possible dates)

_Harry Potter_  
_Ron Weasley_

Of course, her friends were the first to come to mind. Although Hermione knew she cold probably do better than her best friends, she wrote their names on the list. It was just a list of possibilities, after all.

_Seamus Finnigan_  
_Dean Thomas__  
__Neville Longbottom_

She had to admit that that last was unlikely. All the same, it was just possibilities.

What about Ron's brothers? she mused. Yes, she decided, they deserve to be on the list.

_Fred Weasley__  
__George Weasley__  
__Percy Weasley_

And once she had all of them, she couldn't leave out

_Oliver Wood_

"But I can't limit myself to Gryffindor…"

HUFFLEPUFF BOYS (possible dates)

_Ernie MacMillan  
Justin Finch-Fletchley  
Cedric Diggory_

Those were the Hufflepuffs Hermione least suspected of being gay. Actually, she wasn't really sure about Justin Finch-Fletchley. But it was worth a shot, right?

RAVENCLAW BOYS (possible dates)

_Terry Boot  
Roger Davies_

OK, so she didn't know a lot of Ravenclaws. She had never even talked to Roger Davies. Oh well. The list was subject to editing.

SLYTHERIN BOYS (possible dates)

Hermione hesitated, then wrote down _Draco Malfoy_. He was just a possibility, and she did rather like his hair.

With the list done, Hermione decided that she would act accordingly. By the end of the week, Hermione promised herself, I will initiate the project.

First boy: Harry Potter.


	2. Hands On Harry

**Author's notes!**

**I am very sorry about several aspects of last chapter. Number one: it was extremely short. However, I expect that most of my chapters will be extremely short. Number two: It had numerous typoes. Now, you must understand something about me and typoes. I am usually a grammar Nazi. I hate typoes and errors. But you must understand that I was grounded from the computer when I typed the first chapter, so I had only a very small window of time in which to type the whole thing. I apologize sincerely.**

**To wrap up this lengthy note, I'll just relate to you that I am quite open to suggestions. In fact, Fred just told me that he will give you a lock of his splendid hair if you review. He washes it every day, he says. Ok, enough stupidity. On to the chapter (more stupidity).**

Hermione was a little bit nervous. It was exactly three weeks after she had resolved to act within the week.

But it was just that… well, it was _Harry_. Her _friend_. And she loved Harry as a brother and all that, which made it kind of awkward to hit on him. But it had to be done if Hermione was ever going to find herself a flaming hot bag of love.

So on a rainy Monday morning, Hermione decided that it was _time._ You know, _the_ time. Yes, time to go. All right, she'd go. Right now. She was going to do it _now_. _Right_ now. As in, now. This second. Well, maybe in a minute.

She waited for Harry and Ron at the bottom of their dormitory stairs, just as she did every day. It was, as has been stated, a dreary Monday morning. She knew that her friends would be ridiculously grumpy. She just couldn't understand why they didn't love mornings! But it _was_ the first day of spring. Maybe that would cheer them up.

"Hi, Hermione," said Ron. Hermione ignored him. It was Harry she was after, after all. Ron looked distinctly annoyed.

"Hi Harry!" Hermione batted her eyelashes. She had read in _TeenWitch_ magazine that this had a very seductive effect.

"Hi, 'Mione," he said, unsuccessfully stifling a huge yawn. "What's wrong with your eye? It's twitching."

Hermione ignored this slight on her "alluring" eye-batting and said, "Oh, nothing, you know, the usual, so anyways how are you Harry?" all in one breath.

Too tired to notice this odd development, Harry answered, "I hate mornings. I hate Mondays."

Hermione said in a high-pitched, unnaturally girly voice, "Well, cheer up, silly! It's the first day of _spring_!"

In response to this, Harry proclaimed his intense hatred of those foul creatures that wake me up early in the morning with their incessant, stupid twittering. "I hate birds." Pause. "And did you just call me _silly_?"

Hermione had no response to this.

At breakfast, she insisted on sitting by Harry. Repeatedly throughout the day she removed Ron from his seat next to Harry when there was no vacant seat on the Boy-Who-Lived's other side. This caused frequent whispered fights during classes, including one notable one during History of Magic.

"Ron! Move! I want to sit next to Harry!"

Ron sat stubbornly where he was. "Why have you been like this all day? Why do you want to sit next to Harry so much? I'm not moving."

She rounded on him. "Why do _you_ want to sit next to him so badly? I just never get to sit next to him, that's all, because you always insist on being right there. Everyone knows you're in love with him, now move. Anyway, he smells good."

Ron sniffed Harry indiscreetly and loudly, attracting the attention of most of the class. "He doesn't smell any better than me!"

Hermione laughed.

"And I am _not_ in love with Harry, you crazy woman!"

Harry had turned a delicate shade of puce and, looking as though he would like to hide under the table, moved to sit next to Seamus and Dean.

The rest of the day passed mainly without incident, due to the fact that Hermione was thinking of a plan rather than trying to seduce Harry without any forethought.

Later that evening, the Gryffindors were enjoying butterbeer due to the house-elves' generosity, and the Weasley twins' willingness to take advantage of that generosity. Soon, however, the first-day-of-spring celebrations required more, as everyone seemed particularly thirsty. Harry volunteered to get more, having learned the secret of the kitchens from the twins the previous day. Hermione said she would go with him. It was a _goooood_ opportunity.

The halls were dark and silent.

On the way there they made small talk, as is usual for friends to do. Harry mentioned how nasty it was that Padma Patil always made out with her skinny Ravenclaw boyfriend. "And they don't even try to hide it, they're all over the place!" Harry complained. "I always make loud obnoxious gagging noises whenever I see them, but they just ignore me and keep eating each other's faces."

The perfect opening.

Hermione threw herself into Harry's arms and said, "Harry, eat _my_ face!" – and pursed her lips.

She was only dimly aware of falling to the ground as Harry pushed her away, turning a lovely shade of green. "Hermione – the butterbeer's gone to your head – you have a low tolerance – I'm just gonna get the rest now, you – um – I don't need help – " And he ran around the corner.

Upon reflection, Hermione considered that that may have made her plan a little bit too obvious.

Harry was obviously off-limits now.

When she got back to the common room, she went straight to her dorm to avoid facing Harry. As far as she was concerned, if she never spoke to Harry again in her whole life, well, that would be good.

_Well_, she thought, crossing his name off her list, that _was only the most mortifying moment of my life_.

She would just have to go for the next boy.

_Ron Weasley, here I come_.


	3. Ravishing Ron

**In response to reader Emerika: I doubt this fic will turn out the way that you _don't_ want it to. Double negatives. w00t. I know that sounds confusing, but I want to maintain some aura of mystery and suspense . . . lol. Thanks for reviewing.**

**BLLLLLAAAHHH mmk**

Hermione was slightly discouraged. The utter failure of yesterday's attempt to win over Harry had left her reluctant to start over.

But hey, it was a new day and it was the morning! And Hermione loved mornings! She loved them almost as much as she loved Pokemon! And boy did she love Pokemon! She had never told anyone that, though, of course! You know what else she loved? Excessive punctuation!.!.!.!.!.!.!.!.!

As she waited for Harry and Ron at the bottom of the stairs, as was her daily routine, Hermione formed plan after plan. However, she was unable to think of anything even remotely feasible, and found herself discarding every plan she made as soon as she made it.

Well, Ron _was_ a bit of a spaz. She supposed she would just have to 'play it by ear' . . . although she wasn't quite sure what that meant. Stupid American euphemisms.

". . . And guess what else?" Ron was telling Seamus as he walked down the stairs with him and Dean. "Harry let me touch his broom!"

"Did you ride it?" Seamus asked in awe.

"Yeah, it was the best ride I've ever had, pretty much! I mean, it just rose right up, all I had to do was hold on," Ron responded excitedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Boys and their brooms. Did they ever think about anything else?

Ron said bye to the other two boys and came over to Hermione. She asked him where Harry was.

"He's not feeling so good," Ron explained. "He was up all last night, he's tired. He'll come down later, maybe, he said."

Hermione did not care about the reason of Harry's absence – all she could think about was how much easier this would be without Harry around. Talk about luck!

Ron continued to blabber about brooms or Quidditch or some such useless entity all the way out of the common room, down the corridor, and into the Great Hall. When he paused to take a breath, Hermione seized her opportunity.

"I wonder how Harry's feeling," she said with relatively fake concern. "It looks as though we might be alone this evening, Ronald. Since Harry's not feeling well."

Ron nodded his agreement, unable to talk due to the seven pounds of bacon occupying his mouth. He swallowed with great difficulty and said, "We can do that bloody Potions essay that's due tomorrow," and began to complain about how unfair Snape was.

Hermione forced herself to look interested while she carefully chose her next words.

"Well, Ron," she said in as sultry a voice as she could manage, "maybe that's not all we can do this evening."

His brows furrowed into an exasperated expression. "Hermione, our Herbology diagram's not due 'til Thursday!"

Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes with extreme difficulty.

"That's not what I meant, Ron, you idiot!" she heard herself saying.

Ro's expression turned to one of an indignant tomato. "Why are you always so bloody mean to me?" he asked angrily. "You fawn all over Harry and then you call me an idiot. You never say anything nice to me! All you ever do is take the mickey out of me. I'm going to find Harry." And with that impassioned declaration, he stomped dramatically out of the Great Hall.

Hermione followed a few minutes later when the bell rang for first period. Harry was not there either, and even though se sat next to Ron, she could not get a word out of him all period. When the bell rang for the end of the period, he left without saying a word. He sulked for the entire rest of the day. Hermione found herself thinking, _Ron is such a girl!_ but she immediately banished these thoughts as imprudent.

When she finally entered the common room at the end of the day (alone, as Ron had avoided her all day), she found Ron waiting for her. He said, "Erm, Hermione, I'm sorry I had a fit before."

She said, "It's all right, Ron."

"So . . ."

Hermione waited. Was this it? Was this the moment when Ron would express his passionate undying love for her? It must be, it must be! What else could it ―

". . .Will you help me with the Potions essay?"

Hermione sighed, disappointed. _I should have known_, she reflected. "Again, Ron? Merlin, can't you do anything by yourself?"

Ron looked alarmed. "Please, Hermione. Harry's still unwell so I can't ask him. Please! I'll do anything. What do you want?"

Hermione looked Ron in the eye.

"You," she said with utmost sincerity.

Ron looked confused. "What?"

"I want you," she reiterated. "You, Ron! I want YOU!" She rushed over to him and grabbed his robes.

Ron looked disgusted. He brushed Hermione's hand off. "Forget it, Hermione. If you're just going to make fun of me more, I'll do it myself. You could have just refused to help, you know. You didn't have to take the mickey out of me." He went up the stairs to his dormitory.

Hermione stood stock-still, stunned. Ron was such a git! He took everything as an insult! Why had she even wasted her time on him?

At least it hadn't turned out disastrously, like it had with Harry.

Hermione put her face in her hands. This picking-up-guys business was harder than it looked.

With a sigh, she let her dream of Ron go. It was time to move on.

Time for Seamus Finnigan.


	4. Seducing Seamus

**Wow I have not updated in a long time. Sorry.**

**Chapter 4**

Hermione was feeling...well, depressed.

It had been four days since her failed attempt to win Ronald Weasley's heart. In her opinion, it was really Ron's fault for taking everything as an insult. But Hermione was a smart girl, and she knew she couldn't sit around and mope forever or she would never find herself a flamin' hot bag o' love!

Thinking in a Scottish accent (admit it, you do too sometimes) brought her mind to the task at hand. The task at hand was slightly taller than her and had a really cute accent, and his name was Seamus Finnigan.

The magniloquent mademoiselle reflected with a sigh that to seduce Seamus would be the first non-completely awkward try so far. Maybe she was just making excuses to get over the humiliation, but relationships with Harry or Ron would, she decided, have felt incestuous.

She got off the armchair, refreshingly motivated to go to Herbology—Seamus would, of course, be there! And she could think of few places better to make a move than the misty, quixotic greenhouses…

Twenty minutes later, Professor Sprout was describing the vivisection of a porous wood anemone, which the class would be performing in groups of two or three in several minutes. As the class received their anemones, Ron remarked, "Blimey, this looks complicated. I'm glad you're in our group, Hermione."

Harry stared whining about his scar. "My scar hurts. I—I think Voldemort is trying to possess me." Everyone ignored him.

Hermione said cheerily to Ron, "Oh, about that. I'll be working with Seamus and Dean today."

Ron's response was a cacophony of mild obscenities expressing his displeasure with Hermione's emigration from the group.

Hermione ignored this and made her way jauntily to Seamus and Dean, who had just obtained two pairs of tweezers with which they would carry out the operation.

"Hello, boys," she said cheerfully, setting her things down beside her. Seamus and Dean stared at her for a moment, then recovered and greeted her perfunctorily.

"Hi, Hermione."

When she did not say anything, simply stared at the boys with a contrived smile plastered across her face, Seamus asked, not impolitely, "Do you need something?"

Hermione arranged her features in what she hoped was a look of innocent feminine charm and exclaimed, "Who, me? I'm working with you two, silly!" She paused for only a moment to reflect that the "silly!" thing had not worked before. "Dean, be a complete dear and get me some tweezers."

Dean and Seamus exchanged a glance that Hermione missed. Dean shrugged and stood to retrieve a pair of tweezers. As soon as he was gone, Hermione whispered conspiratorially to Seamus, "Are you using the _Confundus_ charm or are you just naturally mind blowing?"

Seamus had not been endowed with the faculty of discretion and, as such, was unable to keep from blurting, "Hermione, are you hitting on me?"

Hermione, who had not expected the conversation to go this way, felt the color rise to her cheeks. Seamus's cheeks were similarly tinged. Unbeknownst to our disgruntled debutante, however, Seamus's color was the physical manifestation of the mental frenzy of thought in which his mind was presently engaged. He was, in other terms, attempting to think of some excuse which he could apply to terminate the bushy-haired femme's interest in him—forever. It wasn't that he didn't like Hermione, it was just that…well…yes, it actually was that. She was…nice…but really not his type. He decided to relay that precise sentiment, albeit without hurting her feelings. Seamus was really a very nice boy.

His plan was to mumble incoherently until she left. "Hermione," Seamus began, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen them, "I can't go out with you because mumble mumble."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Mumble."

"What?"

Damn. His plan was, incredibly, not working. Seamus had forgotten how socially retarded Hermione was. He thought fast.

"Um…I'm gay," he lied hastily, and then added as a precaution, "Don't tell anyone, please."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she said sincerely. "I didn't know. But I want you to know," she said, awkwardly laying a hand on his shoulder, "that I support you fully and I believe that you are every bit as normal as I am, even though you may occasionally engage in homosexual activity!"

It took Seamus a few seconds to realize that Dean was standing directly behind him, taking in every word of Hermione's soliloquy with a look of increasing discomfort.

"I slept in a tent with you!" he exclaimed, aghast.

Seamus tried to mollify him by winking to show that he was lying, but Dean took this the wrong way.

"And now you're hitting on me?" Dean said loudly.

Hermione felt awkward. So did everyone else in the greenhouse, because they were all listening.

"And you!" Dean shouted. Hermione started; Dean had spun around and was addressing her.

"Me?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"You!" he said. "What did you do, put some sort of—gay spell on him?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Seamus.

"No!" exclaimed Hermione, offended. The Ministry of Magic had recently started disposing of criminals by magically making them openly gay and sending them to America.

The situation was spiraling downwards.

But then—thank god for the enormous, deadly, magical creature attacking people at Hogwarts!

At that moment, the door to the greenhouse opened and Minerva McGonagall (not the aforementioned creature) entered. She strode without hesitating to Professor Sprout and spoke quietly to her for a few seconds, then clapped her hands twice to get the students' attention. In a brisk and somewhat tense voice, she said, "All right, students, kindly return to your dormitories immediately. I will be joining you shortly to explain."

This diversion conveniently ended the increasingly awkward chain of events taking place in Greenhouse Number 1.

As she left with the rest of the students, who were now wondering why classes had ended early, Hermione accepted the failure of her third plan. And fourth, she reflected; Dean Thomas, who had been the next person on her list, was no longer a likely candidate.

Next on her list was Neville Longbottom…she wasn't sure of she would actually follow through with that one. Neville's nice, she thought, but I can do better.

She'd have to make a decision before she started on that one. If she decided to go through with it, her next mission would be Neville Longbottom. If not, it would be Fred Weasley.

One thing was certain, though. Things were going to get interesting. She needed a plan. She needed structure. And she needed a little bit of magic.


End file.
